Scars
by Narikokaida
Summary: One-shot. Ever wonder how Ishiah got that scar?


_Ever wonder how Ishiah got that scar? Just a bit of drabble that popped into my head. I was kind of hoping to make this seem like Ish had just lost his wings so to speak... I own nothing that honor belongs to Rob Thurman :D  
_

_**Scars**_

Crimson

_Rot_

Carmine

_Rosso_

Scarlet

_**Red**_

Some many names in so many languages for that simple color.

It wasn't _fair_. I'd just wanted some of those oh so pretty jewels that the pompous ass had been displaying. It wasn't my fault he'd left them in the open. He might as well have put a sign that said "take me". How was I to know he had a bloody sorcerer on the pay roll?

I pressed down harder feeling the crimson liquid pour through my fingers. Sand, the damnable stuff, stuck to my arms everywhere the blood touched. It burned the cuts on my own arms, a constant reminder. Holy land? More like the land of nightmares.

"Ro-bin."

The blood running down the giant feather duster beside me also wasn't my fault. I hadn't asked for his help. I hadn't _wanted _his help. He had made this damn decision. One that I knew he could make all on his own now. I'd watched the bastard lose his halo in a flurry of feathers and rage, watched him give up that life for good. All of that trouble and now…

"Rob…in"

"Don't talk you stupid idiotic feather brained fool." I snapped refusing to admit that my voice cracked. His face turned, that long golden hair sweeping over his shoulder and making Achilles himself look like a vagabond. My stomach rolled as I got a good look at his face. He was still beautiful; nothing could change that, but now a cut deep enough to reveal bone stretched from chin to temple.

"Hurt…I…" I ripped of my shirt tearing it to shreds before wrapping it around his forearm which was currently doing a great job at matching his face.

"I know you're hurt." I grumbled shoving a wad of cloth into his stomach just thankful I couldn't see anything more than blood. There was a low growl and long thick fingers wrapped around my arm. Startled I looked down at him.

"No.. You….hurt?" I gaped at him. He was losing enough blood to make another red sea and he was asking me if I was hurt. Twenty minutes ago he had stood over me, one bloody leg on either side of me with that damned sword flaming three inches from my face, feathers floating around wildly as he'd taken the blow that had been meant for me. Taken it for _me,_ was bleeding in the sand in this god awful desert for _me._

"Ishiah." I whispered bowing my head. "You're a fucking idiot." And then he smiled at me. _Smiled._ I wanted to punch him in that smug face, angel or no.

Blood though, was still dripping onto the sand. So much damage. How much blood could even a fallen angel lose before…

Not stopping to think about what I was doing I wrapped one arm around his neck, careful not to touch his bleeding face. The sand would burn him. He didn't need any more pain. The legs were miraculously untouched making it easier as I scooped him into my arms. He felt so light, like I was holding nothing. Wet warmth spread across my own stomach. It wasn't mine. Almost none of it was mine. The peri groaned weakly as I stood tucking his head against my shoulder, his blonde hair fell over my arm. The rest of him was so limp that only fact that I could actually _feel_ him breathing was the only way I knew he was alive. He was going to stay that way. The town wasn't far, the healer may cost a fortune but she could fix him. She had to.

"Ro..b.."

"Shut _up_ Ishiah." I snarled shifting my grip as the sun beat down on my back as I made my way towards the hazy town I'd just run out of. I cursed the sand, I cursed the heat but most of all I cursed myself as I stumbled into the town ignoring the way people muttered and pointed. The healer took one look at the bundle in my arms and ushered me in the door.

"Fix him." I snarled depositing the bloody body onto the table that the woman had cleared in less than a second. She looked terrified.

"I don't know if I can, this is…" she trailed off and whatever she saw on my face lit a fire under her ass. As she cut of the broken down angels clothes and scrambled for supplies I looked down to the man before me. Blood was steadily dripping down the table onto her floor making a pile of crimson mud.

_Ishiah_. He would not die. He could not die.

Hours later when the woman could no longer stand, Ishiah still sat on the table. He bruised and bloody but he was alive. By the time she'd reached his face she'd barely been able to close the wound before collapsing to the floor. I left her there. The wound was seeping and puffy but Ishiah was alive. That was all that mattered. It was the only thing that mattered. "Fool." I muttered before reaching out to smooth back that sun colored hair. He stirred slightly a sigh leaving his lips. Gently as possible I laid a kiss on his temple.

Then, I turned and walked out the door.

I didn't look back.


End file.
